


The Hallow Women

by TheSleepingKnight



Category: Parahumans Series - Wildbow
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, College AU, F/F, Horror, Other, Religious Cults
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-06
Updated: 2020-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:13:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23036077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSleepingKnight/pseuds/TheSleepingKnight
Summary: Taylor and Lisa, against all odds, have managed to carve out a little life for themselves in this crazy world of villains and heroes.And in a single night, their peace is dashed to pieces.
Relationships: Taylor Hebert | Skitter | Weaver/Lisa Wilbourn | Tattletale
Comments: 6
Kudos: 50





	The Hallow Women

“Have you seen the face of God?”

Taylor turns to stare at the young man who’d just asked her the kind of question that some people spent their entire lives wondering about. He’s nice enough to look at, she supposes. Tall, fairly fit, closely-cut blonde hair and bright baby blues. His face is the thing that sends alarms ringing down her spine, that has her sliding back on the bench. He’s sporting a smile that’s too wide and too perfect to be natural, and his eyes are alight with an intensity that’s a dangerous pair with religion. It’s perhaps a judgmental thought, but in all fairness she lives in Brockton Bay, the city with neo-nazis, drug dealers, and a crime lord who became a dragon every so often. Living here you heard horror stories about people— about women in particular— who talked to the wrong person or gone into the wrong part of town and walked out damaged. Or not walked out at all.

Sadly, she’s kind of stuck where she is, so she can’t just walk away.

“No.” She says, trying to return to her book and hoping he gets the message.

“Well, you can!” He continues, killing her hope with a megawatt grin. He thrusts a pamphlet at her and she very deliberately doesn’t look at it. “The Yellow Sign is there for all to see. We have meetings in the chapel every Sunday, and all are welcome.”

“That’s nice, but I’m afraid my Sundays are pretty busy, and I really need to finish this chapter for a class…” She’s just lying now, nothing happens on Sundays except homework and housework, and no class has assigned her to read _The Octobre Countries,_ but she’d take just about anything to escape this conversation.

“Ah, that’s no problem!” God fucking damn it. “Life is busy, but people find their way to the chapel sooner or later. They see the sign, and they come. Why don’t I just leave you with this, and hope to see you there on Sunday?” The pamphlet is further pushed forwards, and Taylor scooches back on the bench.

“Look,” she says, desperately scanning the campus grounds for her ride, “I don’t want to be rude, but I’m just really not… interested.” His smile flickers, and Taylor finds herself getting ready to bolt.

“Don’t you want your soul to be saved?”

_If I was worried about that, I wouldn’t be looking at a law degree._

“I’m sorry, I’m—” A hand rests on her shoulder, and immediately, relief sweeps through her. She knows that hand.

“Hey, Tay. Sorry I’m late. Ready to head home?” Taylor shoves her book in her bag and all but leaps off of the bench, scurrying around to her girlfriend. She doesn’t give mister evangelical a second glance as the two of them make their way to the parking lot.

“ _Thank_ you for showing up. God, that guy would just not take a fucking hint.”

Lisa shrugs.

“Well, that’s because it’s what he’s been taught to do. Less...altruistic churches encourage that kind of aggressive method among their members, but it’s not about actually getting more followers, it’s about keeping the ones they have. They go out into the world, and of course they have a _terrible_ experience because no one likes getting told they’re doomed unless they repent and go to church, and then the members come back, talk about what happened, and get validated by the others, which only further entrenches them in the community. It’s a time-tested strategy for cults.”

“Lisa, darling, you have a unique and terrible skill of making anything sound sinister and terrifying.”

“That’s because most things are. Speaking of terrifying things, how’s your dad doing?”

Taylor shrugs. “Same old. He’s doing his best, but… he’s still dealing with the house being so quiet, I think. I don’t mind having to go over, though. Things are a lot better than they used to be— thanks to you, of course.” She gives her girlfriend a smile, and it’s reciprocated. “I don’t think I would have finished highschool without you.”

Lisa shakes her head, although she’s smiling with not a small amount of smugness. “You would have made it through. You’re almost as smart as me, sometimes.”

“Almost!?”

“You have your moments, honey.” Lisa’s eyes were alight with mischief, and _oh,_ Taylor is not letting her get away with that.

“Says the woman who left her phone inside the fridge for an entire day.”

“Two words: Frying pan.” Erk. “Yeah, that’s right. I keep _track,_ Tay. you’ve ruined two pans, three plates, two—”

“Okay, okay!” Taylor lightly hits Lisa with her bag. “Jerk. I don’t keep a laundry list of your screw ups.”

“Oh, _bull_ shit. You like reminding yourself that I make mistakes too, because it helps you deal with the fact that you can’t cook to save your life,” Lisa forces out through the laughter, and really that’s just _unfair._ It’s not _her_ fault that the kitchen is full of things that are way too picky about liberally applied fire.

“Stop psychoanalyzing me!”

“I psychoanalyze everything!”

“Calm down there, Miss Freud. Save it for the papers.”

“Wow. Freud, really? I don’t rank at least as a Piaget?”

“Nah.” Taylor snorts. “You’re terrible with kids. I think you scared Aisha for life.”

“ _Wow,_ okay. You’re sleeping on the couch tonight.”

“No, I’m not.” Taylor gives Lisa a sly smile, and Lisa just shakes her head, but not before a similar grin emerged on her face.

“No, you’re not.” Lisa admits. “Curse you and your feminine wiles.”

“Which one of us can actually pull of a dress?”

“You look perfectly dashing in a suit, I assure you.” Lisa purrs, much to Taylor’s delight. “Speaking of, are you going to that party?”

“Nah. It’s not my scene, and you know it. Besides, who needs parties when I have you?”

“That’s sweet, honey, but you really should try. You might have a good time. You could take me as your plus-one?”

“I’m good, Lisa. Really.” Taylor deliberately makes eye-contact, and _wow—_ staring into Lisa’s bottle-glass-green eyes is just as intense as the first time she saw them. “I’m okay. I’m just not interested.”

“If you say so.” Lisa relents.

The two finally reach the parking lot, still chatting about odds and ends as they slip into the car and pull away from the campus, leaving college and all of its stresses behind for a time as they head home.

* * *

  
“Goddamn it.” Lisa swears, staring at the sea of red lights in front of her. “ _Again?_ Seriously?”  
  
“Who do you think it was this time?” Taylor asks, shifting in her seat, trying to get comfortable and pulling out her phone. “My money’s on Lung or Kaiser.”  
  
“You only say that because it’s usually them.”  
  
“...yeah.”  
  
Lisa slams on the breaks, just barely avoiding another bumped fender. “Christ. I’m gonna see if I can’t take a side street.”  
  
“Is that a good idea?” Taylor asks. She’s heard the stories. So has Lisa.  
  
“All this traffic in front us means that whatever’s happening is happening _over there._ It’ll be a bit of a detour, but I can plot a course around it.” Lisa looks over at Taylor. “Trust me.”  
  
“You know I do.” Taylor says.  
  
Lisa nods and pulls off a heart-stopping maneuver, aggressively shifting lanes until they’re off the main road and zooming down a sidestreet. Taylor lets out an explosive breath.  
  
“Have I ever told you how much I just love your driving?”  
  
“No, but you could stand to say it more.”  
  
Taylor snorts at that and goes back to scrolling on her phone, checking the latest message from the PRT Alert. The roadblock _was_ due to Kaiser, who’d apparently made a move on Lung’s territory. Further research into _why_ sends her down the rabbithole that is PHO, and according to the internet’s finest theorists, some of the Empire’s capes had vanished and the fucking Nazi had chosen to go after the nearest group of minorities he could. Taylor sighs deeply and wonders what kind of world she’s living in, where someone could just openly be a Nazi and somehow not be chased out of the city by literally everybody else. Hadn’t the country decided that being a Nazi was a bad thing decades ago? Why was it suddenly acceptable to be hateful again? Had the world just gone mad?  
  
A sudden and gut-churning stop slams Taylor out of her thoughts and back into reality. The car’s stark headlights (when had night fallen?) are illuminating a sight that sent Taylor’s skin crawling up her spine: a small crowd of people dressed in yellow and black, standing eerily still.  
  
“What the fuck?” Taylor looks over at Lisa, and she’s _never_ seen her girlfriend this pale, eyes frantically darting around as if to capture her thoughts. They both look back and see that the entrance to the alleyway is similarly populated, yellow and black. Just _standing_ there, purpose clear:  
  
To prevent them from leaving.  
  
“Taylor.” Lisa whispers, voice sounding like death itself, “do you trust me?”  
  
Taylor doesn’t even have to think about it.  
  
“Yes.”  
  
Lisa floors the gas pedal—  
  
And the attempt at escape is promptly thwarted by an angel.  
  
Or at least, that’s what Taylor thinks she’s _supposed_ to be, with two raven-black wings stretching out from her back as if she’d poured ink over the typically divine feathers. A hood didn’t conceal much of her face, but what they _could_ see was further masked by a blindfold. A blindfold that _oozed_ black, staining the place where her eyes should be and running down the woman’s face like tears.  
  
Or blood.  
  
She holds their car in place with one hand, casually holding a claymore in the other. Her mouth is a flat line, but the fury _rolls_ out of her in choking waves, strangling Taylor’s throat, like fire from a collapsing star.  
  
Then she smashes the car into the nearest wall. There is a great sound of shattering stone and screaming steel, and then there is darkness and pain.  
  
The next thing Taylor is aware of is being pulled out of the wreckage of the car, many hands seizing her with grips of fire. Reality slowly filters back in: sensation, smell, sight, and—  
  
The angel is holding Lisa up with one hand, and her girlfriend’s body hangs limply from the armored grip, blood oozing down from her forehead. Panic and rage floods Taylor’s system, and she desperately pulls and struggles and screams as she tries to free herself from her captors, but there’s simply too many hands, and she can’t pull free.  
  
“Nowhere left to run, little thief.” The angel is saying, still keeping a vice grip on Lisa’s throat. “You cannot hide what you are behind a false face. Our Lord sees through all. He shall unmask the world.”  
  
Lisa wheezes something out. Taylor can’t hear it, but the angel scoffs.  
  
“No. But if she cares about a _pathetic_ little urchin like you, I’ll give her the pleasure of watching.” Lisa’s forced down onto her knees, and now Taylor can really, truly _see_ how terrified she is and _oh god—_  
  
“Taylor.” Lisa’s voice is impossibly calm. “I need you to look at me.” Taylor can’t really talk at the moment. She’s too busy screaming at the way the sword is getting _so close_ to Lisa’s neck. The angel begins to chant something, voice low and reverent. It sounds like gibberish (like the prayer of a madman) but the words sends a horrible chill through her body all the same. _The Court—_  
  
“Taylor, keep your eyes on me.”  
  
“Lisa— Lisa, they’re—” The sword is mere inches away from Lisa’s throat. Taylor redoubles her efforts but the monsters laugh as they keep her from so much as reaching Lisa.  
  
“Taylor, listen to me. Don’t listen to them."  
  
The rest of the crowd has started chanting as well, and it’s like a drumbeat against her skull. The words rip through her consciousness like bullets, and _He fills us with light—_  
  
“Taylor, _focus on me.”_  
  
“I— Lisa—”  
  
“Taylor,” Lisa says, voice still calm but tears beginning to run and this isn't happening this can't be happening, “I need you to know—” The chanting reaches an unholy crescendo, and the angel’s body tenses, bloody ink-eyes seeming to _intensify_ somehow, more liquidated night running down her face, rivulets of emptiness and no no no no no no, “That I was happier with you then I ever have been—”  
  
The blade kisses Lisa’s throat.  
  
“And that I love you so, so muc—”  
  
The sword moves.  
  
A gasp.  
  
Red.  
  
“ _LISA!”_  
  
**_Stars_**.


End file.
